Mornin on the Desert (Found written on the door of an old cabin on the desert.) Mornin on he desert, and the wind is blowin free, And it's ours, jest for the breathin, so let's fill up, you and me. No more stuffy cities, where you have to pay to breathe, Where the helpless human creatures more and throng and strive and seethe. Mornin on the desert, and the air is like a wine, And it seems like all creation has been made for me and mine. No House to stop my vision, save a neighbor's miles away, And the little dobe shanty that belongs to me and May. Lonesome? Not a minute! Why I've got these mountains here, That was put here just to please me, with their blush and frown and cheer. They're waiting when the summer sum gets too sizzlin hot, An we jest go campin in em with a pan and coffee pot. Mornin on the desert - I can smell the sagebrush smoke, I hate to see it burnin, but the land must sure be broke. Ain't it jest a pity that wherever man may live, He tears up much that's beautiful that the good god has to give? "Sagebrush ain't so pretty?" Well, all eyes don't see the same. Have you ever saw the moonlight turn it to a silver flame? An that greasewood thicket Yonder - Well, it smells jest awful sweet. When the night wind has been shakin it-for its smell is hard to beat. Lonesome? Well, I guess not! I've been lonesome in a town, But I sure do love the desert with its stretches wide and brown. All day through the sagebrush here the wind is blowin free, An its ours jest for the breathin, so let's fill up, you and me.